


Not Healed Nor Forgotten

by zacxrys



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drinking, Gangs, Genderfluid Character, Justice tm, LET ME DIE, No worries, Other, Panic Attack, Past Abuse Mentions, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape is not current, Recreational Drug Use, Suffering, also, bros, coming to terms with shit, gays, it did happen but nothing graphic, it'll get there my dude, none will be graphically described, nothing graphic thats awful and i would not write that, only past, panic induced hallucinations, poor kai my dude, suffering again, well i mean, will add tags, worries but
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 17:35:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6480094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zacxrys/pseuds/zacxrys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten year later and then five years after, it's still hard. Just because you've surrounded yourself with friends(?), a home, a few plants forced upon you, a comfortable job and a position in a gang doesn't mean you're better. Ace wonders (knows) you take out your anger meant for Him and Him on them, but that's okay. They deserve it too. You don't, however. Everyone tells you that, they tell you that you didn't deserve any of it. You aren't sure of that all the time, you keep your arms close to your body on the subway and you are constantly in a stance that allows you to run at any time. Or fight. It wouldn't be the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> third person! don't worry  
> this is my first official work, and it follows my alter Kai and his. troubles  
> let him live, my poor son  
> i will say that there will be rape/past abuse mention and there are parts where a voice in the back of kai's head tells him things that are Negative  
> please read only if your comfortable with that

It really wasn't like he minded Saturday nights--although it was crowded, fast-paced, overwhelming, and there were many customers who either didn't know what personal space was or were too drunk to care, it was routine. Saturday nights were constant and muscle memory, repetitive motions and flirtatious smiles and murmurs that got him larger tips and, consequently, more sales. Lustful people stayed longer in hopes of taking the blond bartender home at some ungodly hour when his shift ended, and lustful people bought more cocktails to see him move, shake, pour, and garnish. The thing was, although it was easy to embarrass yourself in front of a packed nightclub, bartending was an art. Kai would deny it, but it made him happy. Impressing people was intoxicating in its own way, and sometimes it made them realize he wasn't just there as eye candy.

Granted, his boss always reminded him that the reason they get so much money is because half of the city comes in just to see their _dazzling and excellently effeminate_ bartender. Kai then continues to remind her that he’s not effeminate, he just has a feminine figure and gorgeous blond hair that no one can seem to resist. Of course, this was said with a straight face and a dramatic flip of his ‘long, beautiful locks’ before turning back to his phone in the lounging position he had taken up on his boss’s couch, their legs tangled haphazardly together.

 

“I love when you have it up in the little bun, you look so delicate,” Ace had said with fondness in her voice.

“Don’t patronize me,” Kai had responded without looking up.

 

Although he seemed to brush off Ace’s playful compliments, it was the French braid in his hair, paired with the bun, that people kept pointing out.

 

“It’s fitting,” Ace had said, the smirk on her lips almost audible as she worked the braid around her bartender’s head.

“Va te faire foutre,” Kai had retorted without any bite to his bark.

 

He had, at one point, considered his native tongue a drawing point for customers—flirtatious, thin, blond, and French? Well, that’s just textbook submissive lover, right there.

 

“Illusion sells,” Kai had said one night, or morning, to Ace as he counted out his tips.

 

Anyway, he knew the whole French thing was out of line, he wouldn’t be comfortable with it, and Ace didn’t push it. Hell, it took a while for Kai to actually _tell_ his boss he was French, much longer for him to admit the reason why he keeps it hidden. So, with paying customers that came for the drinks and stayed for the possibility of _getting some_ , Kai completely masked his accent. Ten years and a hell of a lot of spite and determination will get you somewhere. Later that night, however, or morning, when he was cleaning the counter and his boss at across from him, nursing—

“Chocolate milk? Really?” Although the words conveyed otherwise, Kai’s tone was more mocking than surprised. It wasn’t a surprise. His boss was a child.

“Listen, Kai, let me tell you something,” Ace began, her own accent lacing her words as she looked up at her bartender. “You are never too old to have chocolate milk. And I don’t want coffee, couldn’t stand it, I need _some_ sleep tonig—Hey—“ She was cut off by Kai wordlessly swiping her glass and finishing half of what was left before coughing.

“How—why in God’s name do you put that much chocolate in it?” Kai wheezed, finally letting the American accent fall since the night was over.

“I’m not drinking it because I had a rough childhood, mira, if that were the case you would be practically drunk on it. And because _I_ am not _suspect_ ,” Ace said, explaining herself furthermore and then accusing her friend in a teasing tone.

“Just because I don’t want to lather my _delicious Spanish skin_ in fucking _cocoa butter_ doesn’t mean I’m a criminal,” the blond mocked, harsh words eased with a smirk as he took the night’s tips out of his pockets and began to count. One of the other bartenders, Xander, had previously conked out in the backroom, complaining his ‘small body couldn’t take the exertion’—a comment to which Kai had argued with his own small stature. Xander had replied with a whine. “There’s plenty of other reasons I’m wanted by the police, Ace, and you’re like, half of them. Wait, no. All of them.” His boss had succumbed to a fit of seemingly drunken giggles at Kai’s comment.

“Okay, yes, but I’m also the reason you’re not in jail for those crimes, so, c’mon. And I highly doubt seducing rapists as a bait counts as a crime,” Ace countered upon gathering herself. It was true—she didn’t allow Kai to get that deep into the whole ‘gang’ business. He has enough to deal with as is, and he really doesn’t need a death on his mind. The death of a pervert, granted, but still. The Cicero Family, as they called themselves, after Ace’s last name, ‘dealt’ with the unsavory of humans in the city and branched out into the tristate area, the bar being a form of base for them. Ace, at least. The back of the bar was more like a living room, in which operations were discussed. Xander also had his unholy computer station back there, a place neither Kai nor Ace would peek into. The small man would eat them alive, anyway.

“True, but I feel like, just maybe, beating someone bloody would count as an offense.”

Kai organized his tips in piles of ones, ten in each stack, fives, four in each stack, tens, ten in each stack, twenties with five in each stack and—those three fifties he got. Thank the Lord for capitalists. Ace smiled at him and finished her damned chocolate milk, pushing the glass forward and shrugging at the scowl her bartender gave in return. “Are you heading up?” Kai asked, not looking away from his counting. His boss owned the bar and the apartment/loft/ _thing_ above it, having not wanted to stray far from her establishment.

 

“Mm. Te amo, Kai. Good night,” she said, sliding off the bar stool, one of her many piercings shining off the bar lights. Kai’s response was short and without much acknowledgment, but just having say the words were a big thing.

 

“Je t’aime.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning--panic attack induced hallucinations, ptsd, ya know, general suffering of kai

“You _disgusting_ piece of _shit_ ,” Kai growled, teeth clenched and grinding against each other. There was no mirth in his eyes, only pure distaste and hostility.

Ace wasn’t fazed by the glare and the hatred lacing its way through his bartender’s voice. In fact, he was quite amused.

“Why? Because I bettered you? Darling, you saw it coming. You let me. You could have saved yourself, but you _wanted_ me on top.” A chuckle rose from his throat, leaning back on the couch to watch the blond.

In comparison, this did _not_ amuse Kai. Not this. Not with these circumstances. Not with what was at stake.

“My _main_ , Ace, I have _not_ lost, you think I’d let you win, you sick fuck? Lucina _doesn’t lose,_ Ace, not to fucking _Jigglypuff_.” Smash had not gone well. Smash always goes well. Ace usually screwed around and paused the game at random, inconvenient times to zoom in on a character and laugh as if he were heavily intoxicated. Kai ‘kicked ass’ and playing with his boss only fueled his ego, fed it like a flame. Though, maybe showboating through the years had brought his guard down. It _was_ easy to avoid Jigglypuff.

 

“If you were paying attention, you wouldn’t have let me approach you in the first place. We have to be touching for me to destroy you like that,” the younger man reminded, wagging his finger in a form of chiding his friend. Then, because he loved Kai and knew how delicate his pride was, “It wasn’t for lack of skill, you simply let your walls fall. Because it’s me, and I’m great, and you love me.”

 

“…Yes. Shut up.” Came the reluctant reply. The other had curled in on himself, feet brought up under him and arms around his knees. Compared to Ace, he was small, and he was even without the unintended scale, but now he appeared even younger than he did. With his hair down and him in this state, loose flannel pants and one of his boss’s tank tops, anyone could and would mistake him for an adolescent girl rather than an angsty 26-year-old who probably has an alcohol problem. Ace smiled sadly at him, reaching over to pull the blond into an embrace that more less simply involved the ball that was Kai leaning to the right, vision obscured by olive arms painted in sleeves of plant tattoos. He didn’t say anything, and for that, Kai was grateful.

Considering he showed up at Ace’s door that night (morning?), still in his formal bartender attire that he took pride in, the tie neatly tucked under his vest, he was grateful the other didn’t mention it, didn’t question him. The only thing that gave him up was the trembling. His eyes weren’t red, as he didn’t cry—he doesn’t cry. Ace knew this by now, even if Kai broke that rule every once in a while. The only thing his bartender asked was what Ace’s pronouns were that day, to which he received the response of “It’s too early, even for me, to comprehend my gender right now.” It wasn’t annoyed, and his voice was soft.

Later, after changing into his boss’s clothes and burying himself into the other’s chest, Kai had spoken. The sun was rising, the incessant chirping of the too-awake birds climbing to a crescendo as the sky turned light gray, like after a refreshing rain. He could still taste the unholy chocolate milk in his mouth, but by now it was sour.

When he walks, he is prepared to flee, to run, but on an early, _early_ morning subway, there is nowhere to go when you hear voices that sound too familiar. Baritones an octave too low, chatting idly to each other as they head home from God knows where.

But it’s too similar, and then He is there, and He whispers into Kai’s ear.

“You will come with me.”

_No._

_God, no._

_Please, it can’t be Him, it can’t be, you can leave, you can shout at Him or jump out, the car is slowing, spit, growl, shout—_

Do not call Him by His name.

“Yes, sir.”

And then Kai steps out of the car, it has pulled to a stop, no one follows him but he sees it, sees the dark hair and amber eyes, sees the arrogant smirk.

“Good boy. You remember.”

He’s staring straight ahead as he walks, guided, not seeing anything. The streets melt into each other, lights of all night Duane Reads slipping into those of shadier establishments. Bumping into a drunken man brings complaints and a clear head. The city is quiet now, he is not on the subway, he is somewhere aboveground and He is not here. Kai’s fingernails are almost digging through the cloth of his vest, hands gripping his sides tightly.

 

After the explanation, the telling of how he ended up at Ace’s door, his boss only said one thing.

 

“It’s him or they today.”

 

And Kai was grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my tumblr is zacxrys, and my website is zacxrys.weebly.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kai is kicking my ass

Eventually he’d talk about what happened, exactly what he experienced, and his emotions. That’s what he told himself, at least.

And Ace.

Ace, his best friend, who had tried and failed on multiple occasions to persuade Kai to see a therapist, psychologist, psychiatrist, _anything_ , but talking about _feelings_ wasn’t something he was okay with. If it were Ace with a problem, Ace, who sees a psychologist weekly and a psychiatrist monthly, then Kai would practically trip over himself to make her comfortable, console her, validate her, and she would confide in him. But with himself, to himself, whenever he thought about anything pertaining to his own state of mind, emotions were not okay.

Kai liked to think of himself as strong, persistent, unaffected by his past and his present. He doesn’t like to acknowledge the fact that what happened to him did and does continue to trouble him. When Ace tells him it was not his fault, he knows that. But now? It’s only him holding himself back. He can do better. He is _not_ weak. He used to be, but not now.

Never again.

And in nights when he has purposely had too much to drink, Kai would think. He would think about what he tells victims, what Ace tells him, what Xander does, the guards, Ezekiel, _everyone._ Even when Ace is the only one who knows, apparently it’s _that_ easy to tell that something happened.

After leaving his boss’s house the day before, that’s exactly what he did. Ace didn’t like it, but she knew it was better than the alternative. And sometimes spending time alone to reflect on your own fucked up life helps more than staying with a friend, and that was okay.

When the weekend finally ended and Kai was scheduled to work at five on Monday, his boss knew he was woken about an hour ago. If he had a hangover, he showed no signs of it, he never did. In fact, the blond was dressed as impeccably as always. But that was simply another way to hide himself.

Ace didn’t ask Kai is he was alright, didn’t ask how his night was, how he slept, since they both knew the answers to every single one of those questions. You don’t purposefully bring up a sore subject. Not with Kai.

However, this was Ace, and she could skirt around it.

“Do you really think you are up for work tonight?” The honest question was met with a scowl and a tired gaze that gave away Kai’s current state of mind.

“I’m fine.”

No, he wasn’t. Ace knew that, and Kai sure as hell did.

“Kai—“

“No, I need to work,” he began, the small about of resolution he had snapping. “If I don’t, I’ll sit at home and fester in my own emotions, drink and who knows? Maybe I’ll—“

“ _Kai—_ “

“—sell myself again, right? Is that what you’re worried about? That I’ll throw everything away _again_? Or maybe I won’t even care about the money, who cares! I won’t be sober. In fact, why not—“

A glass shattered on the floor.

It was no accident. Ace hardly dropped it, in reality, she threw it hard against the tile behind the bar. Kai was silent, his angered expression melting into that of a child about to be chastised. The worst part was, Ace didn’t look angry. She looked concerned, crushed, like she was about to cry.

“Ace, I’m—“ Kai started in a weak voice, the other’s expression causing a break in his voice. Ace interrupted him.

“Back room,” she said simply. It was not a question. Her bartender nodded solemnly and obeyed.

Kai pushed open the door, the sickening nervous feeling blossoming in his chest like a mix of anxiety before a roller coaster and trying to hold back tears. Of course, the choking sensation in his throat accompanied the overwhelming guilt.

Unfortunately, Xander and their guards were in the room, but one look at Kai  rought them all to their feet and propelled them out of the door he came in. They knew the feeling well. Upsetting Ace was like upsetting a mother—something you just didn’t do.

He waited in silence on the white couch against the wall, knees tight together and hands pressed into the tops of his thighs. Kai focused on one of the many plants his boss had in the room, specifically the bouncy succulent on the coffee table in front of him. He couldn’t tell exactly what kind it was, but it was round and sprouted outwards in what was no doubt a Fibonacci pattern. It was dark green, the pot was red, and Ace fondly referred to _him_ as ‘Henry’.

Henry didn’t understand self-deprecation. Henry was lucky.

 

Kai, on the other hand, felt severe guilt for lashing out at that. At _Ace_ , for Christ’s sake.

For putting some fucked up form of blame on her after all she’s done. For making her feel like _shit_ when it was he who was the disappointment.

 Ace shut the door softly behind her. Kai didn’t look up, keeping his gaze locked on Henry, even as his boss sat in one of the armchairs opposite the couch. He could feel her gray eyes on him, searched desperately in his peripheral for disappointment and hating himself more when none was found.

“It’s been four months.”

“I know.”

“Do you want to lose that?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you _want_ to _lose_ that, Kai?”

He could feel her stare, his heart crumbling at the crack in her voice and the heaviness of her accent. His own followed, an octave too high.

“ _No_.”

And it comes down.

“But I can’t—I can’t _help_ it, Ace, I don’t know what to do, it’s just—it’s just so _fucking_ hard, and it’s either drink, sell, or die, and at least _selling_ gets me _something_ for the agony.” He didn’t cry as he rambled, that would be weak. His shoulders shook, face buried in his hands.

Ace moved to his side. She wrapped an arm around him as one might a little brother. Kai leaned into her touch and she pulled him close, rubbing his shoulder affectionately. In response, she got a pathetic sigh that would be another person’s sob.

“You don’t want to let Him influence you,” she began, stabilized voice barely above a whisper and her accent reminding Kai of five years of gentle words and family-like Cuban dinners, warm apartments and only the beginning of recovery. “But you let him win when you relapse. I know it hurts, mi corazón, I know you think you’re weak, but for years I have looked at you and seen the strongest person to _ever_ walk this earth. You’ve been through two unimaginable scenarios, and I still got to meet you.” Her voice was soft, caring, sincere, the term of endearment came so naturally, and Kai could only shake harder.

“I can’t stop anyone from touching you again if you go out to find them, Kai. But even then, you know it’d rip them apart.

I can’t stop you from doing it. I can’t change what has happened, I can’t make sure you don’t listen to Him. But I can be there when you knock on my door, as you have before, I can make you hot chocolate the way you like, with milk and two marshmallows, get you bathed and make sure you see a doctor. But you don’t want to live like that. It’s up to you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anger, past rape trigger, past abuse, bad times, all around, basically Be Careful

As much as he hated to admit it, Ace was right. She was always right, of course, but that didn’t make it any easier. Every time something like this happened, he had an argument with himself to try and wallow in his sadness that went exactly as it did now.

 

_…She’s right, she always is._

No she’s not, what you’re doing is fine.

_I’m listening to Him, I’m letting Him control me._

This is what you want, Ace can’t stop you from fucking random guys.

 _I don’t_ want _to do it, but I just—_

That’s what you know, it’s okay. That’s okay. You’re just working.

_I don’t work anymore, I’m not who He forced me to be—_

He didn’t force you to do anything. You wanted it. You loved Him.

_But—_

This is all you know. You’ve been taught how to please, and you’ve been shown time and time again that’s all you’re good for. That and making drinks. Why do you think you became a bartender?

_Ace offered me the job—_

 After you fell into her bed, too.

_That’s not—_

Whore. You deny this. You say you were hurt, but you loved Him, followed Him, let Him sell you. You got on your knees, your back for Him. You’re disgusting.

_I was… sixteen…_

You think that matters? You came here to escape one man to fall into another’s arms. All you want is attention. Disgusting.

_…_

 

That’s how it always ends. That’s how the cycle starts over, too. Ace knows this, and it’s why Kai received a text from her, asking politely:

**are you okay?**

To which Kai responded, as he always does:

 

**Yes.**

 

Which Ace knows was a lie, even if she had no prior knowledge of Kai’s text patterns, where correct grammar or punctuation means something wasn’t right. Generally, nothing was ever right, but usually Kai was sarcastic and/or passive aggressive about the few emotions he shared. Passing comments were to be taken seriously, as they were the closest thing Kai would get to outright telling Ace about problems without a crises happening. He didn’t like conflict, didn’t like when serious matters involving himself were discussed, so Ace’s ‘interventions’, while helpful, practically killed him.

 

**i’m going to come over**

**If you want.**

And so, about half an hour later, thanks to subway traffic, Ace had unlocked the door to Kai’s apartment with the spare key she had. For the best, too, because making the bartender rouse in the mornings or if he was incapacitated, busting in was the only way to get to him. Also because, this morning (afternoon), Kai was planted comfortably on his couch, nursing a cup of coffee he definitely _did not_ spike with a healthy amount of whiskey, making it more alcohol than brew. The look he gave Ace when she came in stopped her from taking it.

 

"I don't want to talk,” he said, voice gravelly from lack of sleep and the burn of liquor.

“I know.” Ace left her bag on the kitchen counter as he passed it before making her way to the connected living area and sitting down next to Kai. “You usually don’t.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Same reason I always am, Kai.” _Making sure he didn’t drink himself to death_ went unsaid. Or at least _be there when he needed to go to the hospital for almost drinking himself to death._ “That, and, of course, try and reason with you to get help.”

“I am,” Kai said defiantly, raising an eyebrow. “It’s called whiskey.” To which Ace responded with a sigh or groan or some mixture of the two, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

“That’s—“

“Not what you mean, I know. What do you want from me?” He seemed nonchalant, maybe slightly annoyed, as if Ace had interrupted his elegant lunch in a prestigious French country club, oceans on his left and champagne on his right. This was not the case, however, and even if he hadn’t fled France, it wouldn’t have happened.

Ace sounded helpless, exasperation or concern lacing her voice.

“You know what I want, Kai—“

“Why do you insist on butting in, Ace? You aren’t me, you aren’t my parents, my _family_ , why do you care?” He suddenly snapped saying things he knows would hurt. He knows that will sting, it will burn, it will feel like fire when Ace really is like a sibling. “You don’t know me, Ace, you have no _fucking_ idea what it’s like, being me. I was _safe_ , Ace, with my _family_ , my _maman_ and _père_ , everything was fucking _fantastic_ , the government wasn’t oppressing us, we had our little house in beautiful suburban France and I was just about to graduate, Ace! Sixteen! So _fucking_ close, but _no,_ apparently I was just _une délicieuse petite pute chaton_ my teacher could use as an _ashtray!_ ”

Ace stared in shock. Not just because she knew what those words meant because Kai had told her once before, not just because of the insults, but because he actually said something. Angry, mean, unacceptable somethings, but somethings nonetheless. That being said, the blond sitting across from her was fuming, grip so tight on the mug that his knuckles where white, you could _hear_ his teeth grinding in anger, eyes filled with nothing but hatred not meant for Ace but delivered to her anyway.

Years of trying had gotten her somewhere, but she wasn’t quite sure if this somewhere was good.

At least Kai let it out. A small part, granted, but still. Let’s continue.

 

“You’re fucking right, Kai, I don’t know, I don’t know a _goddamn_ thing about it,” Ace started, voice building in false anger meant to rile her bartender. In this state, it shouldn’t have been too hard. It wasn’t.

“You _don’t_ , not one fucking bit, you came here young and people took pity, you got other kids and adults who cared for you, you got school and love and I got _Him,_ I got a liar, I got a man who took a kid and _sold_ him, Ace, I—“

Oh.

There was nothing but the sound of Kai’s breathing reaching some form of normal for a long while.

 

"You bastard," he sighed eventually, no venom in his voice. Ace offered a small smile. Kai hung his head, his shoulders shook, he didn’t cry, since Kai didn’t cry, and Ace slid closer to him on the couch. She held him as one would a little brother, protecting their younger sibling from horrors worse than a bump in the night.

“Te amo, Kai.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *french translates to "a delicious little whore kitten"  
> sorry kai
> 
>  
> 
> tumblr and twitter is zacxrys, website is zacxrys.weebly.com


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> real talk tho. this chapter was so easy to write and i feel like that says something about me

Maybe, when he was younger, a child, a boy, he could see reason, start over, tell his parents or avoid his teacher, stay in France, who knows? Honestly, the thing that killed him the most, forget his teacher, forget his—never mind, was leaving his parents. They must have thought he was dead, he hadn’t talked to them for ten years. He’d spent so long away and now felt it was too late to try and reconnect with them, his spirited father, his sarcastic mother, his _parents_ , who would have loved him no matter what. But he wasn’t the Kai they knew, the sweet, bookish boy, excelling in subjects across the board, the genuine smile, shining blue eyes. They were duller now, weathered like bones left out too many months of back and forth rain and shine. Maybe a nice collectible, but no good for polishing. Too old. Too _used_.

 

Even the smiles, too few and too far, too fake when occurring. Usually just to please, to flirt, get tips, get money, get a John. The real ones were small, slight, smoke pouring over it either of _Gauloises_ , what his teacher bought, what gave him the burns on his hips and thighs, or something greener Ace had in the back room or their apartment. They’d always said that Kai looked years younger when his mouth curved, his eyes sparkled, a possible laugh spilling from rosé colored lips. Ace had also said those moments made them the saddest, thinking of who Kai used to be. They didn’t like mentioning that, apologized afterwards, but Kai agreed. They were memories, smoky wisps of ghosts that once were.

 

Over a drink or some of the greener stuff Ace had, Kai may have loosened up, mentioned really emotional things with a shrug and a sip or a hit. The conversation always changed after that. Often times it was something Ace already knew, but maybe in more depth—well, as much depth as a few passing sentences could allow. Tonight, it started when their bartender had scrunched up his face in thought, spliff hanging loosely from thumb and forefinger.

 

“I always hated that thing people say, that it’s easier for people who were abused to be abused again. I used that to justify what Corr did to me.”

 

Even now he couldn’t say His first name, but it’s hard to break a _rule_ you had to follow for five years. Ace was shocked, not because Corr was brought up, but because Kai acknowledged ever so slightly that he didn’t hate Him, not at first. He never did that, never talked about his past because he thought it made him weak, but he _never_ discussed what Corr was to him, because that was _worse._

 

He didn’t like thinking about the fact that he had a choice, going in. According to Ace, he didn’t, but Kai disagreed.

 

“He was twenty nine and I was sixteen. Men liked me. They still do. I didn’t look masculine enough that they could fuck me and still say they were straight and loved their wives,” Kai had said once, again in passing. “I knew, after my teacher, not to trust men. I was naïve. He was too nice, too charming, I should have known.”

 

Now, Kai had exhaled, smoke pluming from his nose as he passed the spliff to Ace, and the conversation that consisted of two sentences and two hearts breaking a little bit more came to an unsatisfying end.

However, Kai’s thoughts were a a mile a minute. The intoxication numbed the condescending voice, so it was simply melancholy thinking.

 

_Maestro was kind as well. I should have known. I should have realized…_

_I knew when He took my phone, I knew this wasn’t right. I knew I had gotten into something bad, but I ignored myself._

 

_I knew again when He got rough, started asking things of me, desperately begged me to “entertain” his “friend”. He seemed so honest, so caring, just in a bad spot._

_I knew when He made me get a tattoo, a date, He said, that meant our love._

_I knew when I wasn’t the only person with that tattoo._

_I knew when He stopped letting me call Him His name, and it was either Corr or “sir”._

_I knew when “I love you” meant I had a job, and then I knew when there was no “I love you”, only_ “Kai. Get up.”

 

 _I knew when His people would dress me up, do my hair,_ prepare _me, I knew it was wrong, I knew when my accent was His and His only, the clients got clean English, I knew._

_I only snapped when He burned me, a cigarette behind the ear was too close to the burns on my thighs and even then I didn’t leave for two more years._

 

_Then again, I was scared. I was scared in the first year._

_But still, I remember myself laying with Him, unholy bruises all over that no one should have, I remember trying to breathe with the hand marks still on my throat, I remember that disgusting feeling between my thighs and I remember, rasping, breathless, while I still could, while I knew his name, I remember,_

_“I love you, Elias.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr/twitter: @zacxrys  
> zacxrys.weebly.com  
> im sorry

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is zacxrys.tumblr.com and my website is zacxrys.weebly.com


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